"To my dearest colleague and friend,
I hope you are well. I've noticed your absence for the past week. To be quite honest, the lack of your presence here has made me feel all sorts of different feelings. Melancholy, rage, and despair. I start yammering away and only a few sentences later do I realize that I've been talking to myself. In other words, I miss you greatly. Please, I await your return eagerly."
"wtf. dont send me a love letter via text. I only got the flu. no need to go all eloisa to abelard on me like that. i had to explain to my wife that you were just a creepy, senile boss than a crazed stalker."
"You wound me with your cheeky insults! Still, it puts me at ease to know that you are okay."
"if you can call oozing out a liter of fluid out of my nose per hour okay, i guess i'm okay. do you have nothing better to do than bother someone whos trying to recover?"
"Forsooth! Once you fully recover, you're to accompany me on a confidential tour of our forces! Preferably within the week."
"theres so many things wrong with that statement but quite frankly i dont have the mental fortitude to list them all one by one and counter them with actual logic via text while my head feels like a balloon full of mucus. is there any way that I can rope myself out of this by begging?"
"I certainly hope not. You'd break my heart like that. I'll offer you a monetary incentive?"
"the things i do for money. ill let you know when im better so we can do whatever abuse of power you have planned."
"Splendid! I'll send you plane tickets straight away."
"did you forget im horribly sick? how am i supposed to get on an international flight in this condition within three days?"
"hello?"
— —
The commander found himself and Amagi at the bench they had stopped at so long ago, overlooking the ocean view. After dropping Laffey on the couch to sleep, he suggested a walk. And after wandering the premises in near complete silence, they found themselves at the place where Her expression was completely inscrutable: the usual soft smile was replaced by a neutral countenance that could've meant anything. The sun was setting again, casting its red glow across both sea and sky alike.
He could do nothing but wait for Amagi to gather her thoughts, and muse on his own.
Some thoughts came unbidden into his head. Predominantly, those which concerned his relationship with Amagi. They met under strained circumstances, united under naval tactics, and now they sought each other's company under turbulent times. He often wondered if Amagi would discover that there was little to see of him besides a sound tactical mind and a self-pitying misanthrope. He treasured having a friendship where he could run his mouth with little concern of consequences, and feared losing it. He wanted to hold up his share of the deal by giving open ears, like Amagi had so patiently did so many times before.
It took past twilight and the stars to come out before Amagi finally began to speak.
It was sudden: no breath taken and no change in posture. As if she simply opened her mouth and let her thoughts fall out into the world.
"I'm not really quite sure what to begin," she said, quietly. "This entire situation spiraled beyond my control almost immediately."
"Does it have to do with Akagi?" he asked.
"Did Kaga tell you?"
He nodded once, surprised by how quickly she figured out who.
She sighed. "I suppose she means well, but I fear that our relationship has been quite ruined past salvation."
The way she said it made the commander's stomach churn unpleasantly. It was said so matter-of-factly, as if she was listing off a truth of the world. Much like how he would be absorbed in his own thoughts, and believing them to be true. He tried, cautiously, "I find that speaking things out loud helps me organize them." He winced mildly at the awkward platitude. "At least, it's helped me out."
Amagi shifted on her seat. "I suppose it couldn't hurt," she said, quietly.
"As you remember, I set up Akagi to be your secretary, in belief that it would help her overcome her shortcomings. It turned out that while Akagi deferred to my decision, she hated it. I didn't think about the pain I'd put her through by making her force her heartache head-on.
"During this time, we got to know each other. We discussed strategy over meals, while Akagi watched out of the corner of her eye. If she told me that this bothered her, I would've stopped. But she held her pain to herself, and grew distant.
"I foolishly asked her why one day. It was an offhand comment, something that registered in my subconscious but something that I didn't completely realize. And then Akagi told me everything. She accused me of terrible things. About wanting to steal you away from her. She cried, then left."
Amagi, however, did not cry while saying all this. Her voice was measured, monotone, and plain. If there were tears, they had been long shed. Or she simply wasn't the crying sort.
"The worst part about my sister's accusation was that it felt true. I did enjoy our company together at the expense of her feelings. Akagi still loves you greatly, Shikikan. And now she hasn't spoken to me at all." Amagi's shoulders slackened. "It's been a long time since I last didn't know what to do."
The commander was at a loss of words of what to do. Something like this had never happened to him, but he didn't want to murmur useless worn platitudes either. He opened his mouth to say something, but there was nothing to say. He just gaped like a fish out of water. What could he say? He finally managed with a "I'm sorry."
"Don't be, commander. This is on me and me alone. I should suffer the consequences of my own actions. That being said… I didn't expect to lose out on a sibling for my negligence." She let out a weary sigh. "I'll just have to wait until Akagi allows me to enter her life again."
That stabbed at his heart. But from it, an idea popped inside his head. "I should talk with Akagi."
Amagi frowned slightly. "Do you remember the last time you tried that?"
He flushed. Of course he hadn't forgotten. "Yes, I remember. But last time I was woefully unprepared." And utterly selfish, he thought. "Besides, I've been meaning to talk with her again."
"You don't have to do this for me."
"You're right," he heard himself say. "I don't have to. But I think it's the right thing to do."
Amagi didn't respond to that, choosing instead to watch the waves crash against the coast. He didn't push, and let the seaside breeze wash away the silence in between them.
It was weird. Promised appointments never went well for him: he'd worry and fidget about it all the time, and only when it was over did he finally take a breath of relief. But there was no such apprehension here. Amagi still didn't have her usual smile, but he thought that some kind of burden had been taken off her shoulders which made her sit easier.
"May I tell you something?" Amagi suddenly said.
"Yeah?"
She took a breath. "When I first met you, I thought you were just a child with immense talent for tactics."
"What?" He meant to sound incredulous, but it came out more confused than anything else.
"But I'm glad that my first impression was wrong." When the commander looked at Amagi again, she was smiling. "The likelihood of you being successful is low, but the confidence of how you said it still puts me at ease. It makes no sense, yet…"
"Wait, wait… what did you mean I was just a child?"
"Have you taken a good look at yourself recently versus earlier?"
"I…" He stopped, and the memories came rushing back. It wasn't pleasant to remember. He wasn't in the best state of mind then, but how he handled some situations hurt him like a punch to the gut.
"But you've matured past those times, yes? I can see why High Command chose you to command us now."
He wasn't sure what he could say. Nothing seemed to function in his brain anymore.
"In any case, Shikikan, many thanks for keeping me company," Amagi said, standing up. "I apologize for taking so much time out of your busy day."
"It was nothing," he said, doing the same. "I'm glad to have been here."
There was an awkward pause where both of them wanted to leave because of things to do but not say goodbye. But it had to end.
Amagi bowed slightly. "I'll be seeing you soon, Commander. Thank you."
"Bye, Amagi."
They each went their own ways, their apprehensions alleviated but not removed.
—
There were some days the commander woke up with perfect clarity in his mind. This morning, it felt like his brain never went to sleep. He had the same train of thought he fell asleep to: Akagi.
What exactly did he feel about Akagi?
The name spawned several not-so-positive adjectives: obsessive, possessive, and annoyingly passionate. She had zero respect for personal space. And she could bear a grudge for a long, long time.
But he found that he didn't hate her. And truth be told, he felt sorry for her. Going by Amagi's words, Akagi had been suffering in silence all the while. And nobody deserved that.
He rolled out of bed, and got ready for the day.
—
He found Akagi walking out of the canteen with Kaga. Kaga made eye contact with him first, shared an acknowledging look, and made her getaway. Akagi watched her go, and spied the commander too soon after.
"Hello, Shikikan." Akagi was nothing but polite. "Allow me to remind you that I have asked for us to never speak of these matters again."
The commander partly wondered if Akagi had a sixth sense for these kinds of things, but brushed off those thoughts. "I know. But I've gotten some conflicting requests from others so I think it's best we look at it again."
Her face hardened into a scowl. "And who asked?"
"Kaga."
If Akagi was surprised, she did not show it. But instead, the dirty look softened into some sort of resignation. She looked in the direction where Kaga had left, where she had long passed from view. "Ah," was all she could manage.
"Do you want to sit somewhere?" he found himself asking. She nodded once, and they went, Akagi leading.
—
They walked in stony silence. Along the port, they passed by the same shops and food stalls that he saw on his tour around with Takao and Atago. While it was nowhere as lively as the first time around, there was still plenty of activity going on. But everyone moved out of their way and they passed by with ease, like Moses parting the Red Sea. Perhaps it was the melancholy, ruminating expression on his face, or the frigid one on Akagi's. In any case, everyone seemed to know that the duo were not to be approached: a skill which seemed supernatural to the commander.
Usually, in situations like these, his mind would be running a mile a minute. Scenario creation, option exploration, and consequence contemplation. But in the broad daylight, where the atmosphere was as cold as death, his mind was surprisingly empty. A little bubble of panic arose occasionally, but there was no hyperventilation, no teeth grinding, and no cold sweats. It was the calmest he felt in a while.
But even the bustle of the portside was left behind, and the path turned from concrete to dirt. It winded up, into a forested area he'd never explored before. Yet still neither of them made any conversation, and the only sounds which accompanied them were their own soft footfalls and the crashing of waves of the nearby but unseen ocean.
The commander had no clue this trail was here all along. He wondered how Akagi learned to know of it, and if it was commonly known among all the kansen. It raised the question of whether there were other things he didn't know that was common knowledge. It's been several months, and it seemed to him that easily over 90% of the entire fleet were still strangers.
Akagi stopped along the way, where the treeline finally broke and showed the sea. The bluff was overlooking the ocean view. From here, it seemed like they were truly surrounded by the ocean. A two boulders at waist height were next to each other on the precipice; Akagi took a seat on one of them and gestured for him to take a seat on the other. He sat, and both of them said no words as they watched the curved horizon and felt the ocean breeze ruffle their clothes and hair.
It felt like the commander had intruded on something he shouldn't have. It felt like by being here, he was tarnishing the sanctity of the private place of solitude in Akagi's mind. It brought up the question of why Akagi had decided to bring him here, of all places.
It was Akagi who broke the frail silence. "What is it that you wanted to talk about, Shikikan?" Her voice was low and toneless.
He let out a breath he didn't know he was holding in. "I wanted to talk about you, Akagi."
"What is it you want of me now, Shikikan? An apology? A promise?"
"I just wanted to ask how you've been doing."
She took a deep breath. "I'm doing fine. If you were just going to ask me such simple questions, there was no need to come all the way up here."
"Kaga and Amagi have been worried for you," he pressed.
"I could gather that much," she said flatly. "I don't see where you come into play."
"How come you haven't been talking with Amagi?"
Akagi narrowed her eyes. "So she's told you that much."
"Amagi's been desperate."
"You don't know anything about Amagi."
"I know enough that —" the commander realized his voice had been shaking, and cleared his throat and took a breath to calm the pounding in his chest. "Look, Akagi… I feel like you should have a talk with her."
"I already have." She turned her attention back to the sea. "I've decided that it's not productive for either of us to keep talking with each other. It wears on me just as much as it wears on my sister."
The commander was silent for a time. He said quietly, "I didn't think you'd be this opposed to me at all."
"I did explicitly tell you to keep yourself out of family affairs."
"I know. I know you did." A pause. "You know, when Kaga asked me to help, my initial reaction was to refuse her."
"Then why didn't you?"
"Amagi came, at her wits' end, and lay down everything she knew. And as a friend, I had to do something."
"Did she not tell you to keep your nose out of our business?"
"Yeah. But I insisted on it anyway."
From his position, he couldn't see Akagi's face while she looked out to sea. But when she turned back to face him, he was shocked to see her angry. Furious, and crying.
"Shikikan… you… idiot." Akagi wiped the tears from her face with her sleeve, yet they continued to drip: a continuous downpour. Her voice was thick with latent emotion. "How can you be so aware yet ignorant at the same time?"
The commander could not find the words to say anything.
"Here you are, talking about Amagi, what Amagi wants, what Amagi needs, yet be so brick-headed to never notice me? Leaving me out on conversations, discussing strategy together, going on walks in the middle of the night? What does my sister have over me?" Akagi laughed, empty and humorlessly. "Of course I know. My dearest sister will always be better than me. And I can't find a reason to hate her, because I love her too. More than my shitty unrequited love." She turned away again, and quieted herself. "So leave me alone. Let me think my thoughts to myself."
Horror leaked into his heart and seeped into the rest of his muscles, frozen and unable to act. Part of it was from the knowledge that it was because of his own willful ignorance that allowed this to happen, but also because her outburst resonated with him. A story of inadequacy, but not one which could be channelled into other productive ventures. It was a steel ball which weighed continuously on the mind.
He clenched his hands in his lap. "I'm sorry."
She laughed through her tears. "So now you apologize. Very well, I'm a gracious person. I accept your apology. Now go away. Let a woman have her space."
Why did this feel so bitter? This wasn't the ending he envisioned. He hadn't expected an ending where everyone goes home with a skip in their step, but there was no progress here. Was this the limit to all he could do?
He didn't want it to be. So he got up, and gave Akagi a hug from behind.
Akagi immediately tensed up, then relaxed once she realized what was going on. "... and what is this supposed to be, Shikikan?"
He let go of everything that was balanced on his mind, and let it flow. "Do you remember how this was how we first met? You curled up behind me, unwanted, and I denied you. You went away, and this entire thing started. I still don't think I was in the wrong to do that."
"You —"
"But I think nobody should be in your circumstances, either. So Akagi, can we start over again?"
Akagi sniffed, then sighed. "Commander, you're such a child. Stop trying to make amends when it's too late."
"I'd admit to making a bunch of immature decisions. But I don't think it's childish to set things right rather than let things stand as is." He rose from his uncomfortable position awkwardly. It was difficult to hug someone from behind with several tails.
"Then tell me, Shikikan: what should I do now?" Akagi asked.
"I think… I think you should talk to your sister first, and tell her everything. I think she'd want to know as soon as possible. And then maybe we can grab some lunch together, or something."
Akagi was silent. Then she rose from her boulder and turned to face the commander.
Her face, stained with dried tears, nevertheless had the sultry expression that he had originally known. "Shikikan," she said. "If it were any other time, I would've mocked you for saying such juvenile things. But for whatever reason, they've comforted me. And I have to thank you for that." She wiped a stray tear. "And another thing: don't pity me in the future. I would appreciate that greatly."
He waved it off. "Yeah, no problem. I'd want the same thing too, to be honest. I look forward to seeing you again — I mean, seeing you for the first time."
"I'll see you then, Commander." Her lips turned up, from some secret thought in her head, and turned to leave. Her footfalls were louder than the waves crashing into the cliffside, long after she passed from view. He couldn't tell when her footsteps disappeared, because his heartbeat thumped in beat and carried its sound long after she was gone.
The commander finally collapsed his entire weight onto his boulder seat once he was sure Akagi was gone. His hands were shaking, and his knees seemed unable to function. He had no idea how he pulled that off, or how he managed to not freeze in the middle along the way. All the adrenaline crashed his system, and a cold sweat broke out all over his body. So, unable to stand, all he could do was watch the ocean as the body recouped itself to functional levels.
Also, it kind of stung that Akagi also called him a child. He thought Amagi saying it was an exception: she was an older sister, and seemed mature beyond her years. Perhaps he'd read too many cliche young adult novels. Maybe he still solved interpersonal problems like an elementary schooler, despite being over twenty years old. But he got results. So he stuck with what he had said, and maybe he would grow beyond his stunted interpersonal skills.
But regardless of his body state, a glow of satisfaction crept and filled out every nerve. He managed to act. He got through to Akagi. He helped out a friend. He felt good. He couldn't remember the last time he felt this way.
